Of Smirking and More Smirking
by Autumn Moon Fae
Summary: "Merlin," she said, "that's not a Smirk, it's a grimace." A series of short stories revolving around our favourite villain - Morgana Pendragon. All that Smirking, dramatic irony and floaty purple cloaks...she must have made some mistakes, right? Long live the Wishful Queen of Camelot. Chaos ensues.


A/N: This will most likely be the first of a series of Morgana-centred short story/oneshot things. Yes, everyone is hopelessly OOC. Yes, I kinda implied Merlin has/had a crush on Morgana. (Can't really blame him though. I wish I looked like that.)

This is set somewhere towards the end of season 3, after the Eye of the Phoenix. Just a bit of foolishness and occasional humour. :) Enjoy.

The **Smirking** Contest

It was a lovely day.

Gaius skipped happily up the steps to the Great Hall of Camelot. My, he was enjoying being old. After that whole pretend-to-be-a-goblin-to-slap-Uther's-head episode (great payback, though Merlin constantly assured him that he had really been possessed) no one even batted an eye. The things he could do with this new power! No one had ever told him that it was this _fun _to be evil!

As he saw Gwen sashaying down the hall with a basket of laundry, he stiffened and raised an eyebrow. It was almost as trademark as…

…the **Smirk**.

"Merlin what are you _doing_?"

"**Smirking**."

Gaius glanced around, hoping – praying – that no one was within five miles of his face-screwed-up, grinning-like-an-idiot assistant/son. He was so traumatized he even forgot to raise his eyebrow.

Merlin, with typical bumbling cheer, mistook this response as affirmative. "You see, Morgana sent me this letter and I know she's a traitor but she's, like, _superhot_ and she **Smirks** all the time so I just thought why can't I? Uther's pretty bad anyway, even The Invisible Dragon agrees, he burned down half of Camelot, but he's a little totally bipolar so I figured, why not take advice from him, you know? It's not like he's trying to ship me and Arthur or anything… Morgause kinda creeps me out though…all that eyeliner…that's the mark of someone who's _actually _messed up…"

When the world finally stopped moving, Gaius noticed a piece of ripped parchment sticking out from the top of Merlin's neckerchief. It must have itched him every time he swallowed, Gaius thought with a sigh. He tried to snatch it, missed, and tried again.

It was written in probably poisoned green ink that Gaius would not risk sniffing (partly to avoid poisoning and partly to avoid fainting from the strength of Morgana's strawberry conditioner, which was basically the same thing.) The probably poisoned green ink read, in **Smirking** probably poisoned green letters:

_Dearest Merlin,_

_Please help. Morgause says __**Smirking**__ doesn't count as an Evil Deed (NOT FAIR!) and I'm running out of time to finish my weekly list. Come to my rooms after dinner for a __**Smirking**__ Contest. That's an Evil Deed if I ever heard of one. If I don't fill out my Evil Deed list I will be in trouble! Please help me! _

_**Smirks,**_

_Morgana Pendragon_

_Wishful Queen of Camelot_

_P.S: I know we're technically even cause I left you to die with the curtains, but if you don't come I'll tell Uther on you. AND __**Smirk.**__ AND steal your neckerchief._

_P.P.S: I do think your ears are cute. I do._

Gaius looked up sternly.

Murder and treason.

"Merlin," he said slowly. "Why did you have the Lady Morgana's note in your neckerchief?"

Merlin went bright red and looked down, his hands twisting nervously in his jacket. "Gaius," he muttered, "isn't it obvious?"

He was such a drama queen. Gaius shook his head (not without much impatience.)

"It was – it was next to my heart."

The desk met Gaius' forehead with astonishing rapidity.

_Later that evening…_

Merlin knocked on Morgana's door somewhat tentatively. There was no answer. He leaned against the doorframe, resting his head on the shiny wood. What if she wasn't there? He would _die_ (probably because he'd wasted all that time practicing **Smirking **when he'd been supposed to polish Arthur's armour.)

Poor emotional Merlin was left to his depressive thoughts. Most of which involved the stocks, tomato allergies, and how tomatoes were not even supposed to exist in his universe.

Suddenly the wall gave way beneath him and he fell through a portal into an alternate universe with creepy Chitauri, tomatoes and raspberry chocolate cookies…

Merlin glanced up.

Oh no, this was _much _worse.

Morgana **Smirked** down at him. "Sorry, Merlin."

She did not sound very sorry…but then again she was a traitor, wasn't she? Feeling dizzy and confused, the servant stood up. "Hi Morgana."

"You have to call me Your Majesty," Morgana whined. "It's no fun if you don't call me Your Majesty."

"All right, all right," he grumbled under his breath. Her Majesty **Smirked **again.

"Two – nil," she said, **Smirking.**

"Is it only the number of **Smirks** or the quality?" Merlin asked, rubbing his forehead.

The Wishful Queen of Camelot frowned. "I don't know. Let me see yours."

Merlin twisted his face into a very surprising expression. Arthur would probably have labelled it "a Merlin fail." Gaius' face would have come into contact with the worn-out, head-printed desk yet again. Morgana raised her eyebrows, trying to imitate Merlin's father figure. (Unsuccessfully. Maybe it was the dress that did it.)

"_Merlin_," she said, "that's not a **Smirk**, it's a _grimace."_

The grimacing servant would have whacked himself in the head with the fancy mirror on the dressing table had Morgana not – in a moment's display of sympathy – grabbed his hand. "Stop. It's not like you have the brain cells to spare."

Merlin just nodded.

"Now, all we need to do is think of other evil things I can do for my list." The Queen unrolled a 2-foot long scroll and practically shoved it up Merlin's nose in excitement. He blinked.

_I, Morgana, Queen of Camelot, hereby swear to maintain my status as Villain, to upkeep the Evil of the Realm, and to __**Smirk**__ with Treachery at least once every half an hour._

Morgana bounced happily from where she sat on the bed. "I'm doing above average on that one. I **Smirk** every five minutes. Pretty good huh?"

_In keeping with the Universal Laws of Villainy, I shall complete at least 200 Acts of Evil per every seven days, for Seven is a Good and Evil Number._

Merlin skipped through the rest to Morgana's list. And looked again.

The list looked very, very small compared to the one-foot-and-eight-inches space below it.

_- Poisoned Leon's water, seriously that guy is immortal_

_- Stole Gwen's love notes ) now I feel depressed (_

_- Yelled at Gwen for an hour ) good times_

_- Ripped a page out of Geoffrey's favourite book_

_- flirted with Arthur_

_- …squashed a bug?_

He looked up at Morgana's sad face. "It was a good ant."

"Oh. Oh. Okay."

She jumped up again and began to clack noisily over to her drawer of overflowing Evil papers, pulling up one that was filled all the way down to the bottom with words that looked suspiciously like "**Smirked**" and a whole lot of numbers.

"You wanna see this one?"

Before Merlin (mentally vowing to never become Evil) could think of a way to stupidly change the topic while being blatantly obvious and dollopheaded, Morgana fainted.

He turned around just in time to see Gwaine flip his hair again.

"…"

"…Gwaine?"

"Merlin! Long time no see!"

Merlin blinked again. "Um…greetings."

Gwaine stopped, noticed the long scrolls of paper littering the floor, lifted his hands in surrender and started to slowly back away. "Ohhhhno. Don't tell me that's my bill from that tavern in Mercia."

"No it's not."

Gwaine grinned.

"It's Morgana's list of Evil Deeds."

Gwaine groaned.

"Seeing as she's a certified Villain and all, she has to have one…"

Silence.

"How did you get in here anyway?"

"Sorcery, mate, sorcery."

After a mini panic attack, Merlin grinned back. "Sure. _Why, _then?"

"I need…a cloak."

He glanced around. "A…cloak?"

Gwaine beamed. "Yep."

"Why…do you need…a cloak?"

"To get into Camelot."

"…"

"…"

"…but Gwaine, you're already in Camelot."

"Yes, but I was _discovered_."

Merlin nodded. Very slowly. "…right."

Gwaine hopped onto the bed and over to Morgana's closet. "So, green, or red?"

"Um."

"I think the red one's a little more manly, if you rip out the pink silk, but the green one _glitters_…"

Still not believing he was stuck in this impossible situation, Merlin nodded again (he seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.) Maybe he could salvage some broken tatters of his world yet. After all, Gwaine had a point – without a cloak one could not _effectively _sneak in or out of Camelot.

"You could always take both and choose one when you're drunk," he suggested innocently.

"Good idea Merlin." Gwaine stuffed Morgana's precious velveteen cloaks under one arm, hugged Merlin with the other (because you know Gwaine, he's an opportunist and he _always _hugs Merlin) and left…through the open window. Which Merlin had failed to notice.

Sorcery indeed.

Merlin let out the deep breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and sagged against Morgana's (elaborately carved) bedpost. He was so tired…Arthur's armour would have to wait for another day. Whatever. He was just going to go back to Gaius' rooms and thank God that no hot, conveniently wounded stranger had stolen his bed. Because while Gaius' rooms (minus the leech tank) were nice, Gaius' _floor_ was not.

Casting a last glance at the Wishful Queen of Camelot, Merlin flopped out the door and down the hallway. Flopping meant sagging steps and swaying precariously from wall to wall. He'd learned it from Gwaine. It was the most fun mode of transport in Camelot as far as Merlin was concerned, and that was good because he often ended up doing it these days…

_Three hours later…_

Merlin sat straight up in bed.

Oh no. Ohhhhhno.

This was not good.

Things were never good when you woke up at two in the morning and there _wasn't even a disembodied voice or mysterious creature in sight. _Or hearing. Or whatever.

Morgana.

She would wake up and find her cloaks missing. She would. And she wouldn't blame it on Gwaine because he had nice hair and he made her faint, but _Merlin…_

Oh no.

Merlin got out of bed and wrapped his blanket around himself, covered in a cold sweat. Morgana would make his life _hell._ She _loved _those cloaks. They were her babies. She put new dagger-sheaths and magic-linings on them every weekend. They were the product of the one bet she had with Arthur and actually won! She was going to _kill _him!

There was only one thing to do. When it came to being attacked by a certified Evil witch-teenager of DOOM, loyalty only went so far.

He scrawled out the note by candlelight and slid it under Morgana's door before running, not flopping, for his life.

_The next morning…_

Morgana got up on the wrong side of the floor. She was grumpy. But it was a holiday. And she was going to go see Morgause later. So that made it all right.

She tactfully extricated herself from her un-Queenly position (her back hurt) before deciding that screw the Rule, she was going to go see Morgause _now._ After all, it would be good to plot the destruction of the kingdom in broad daylight. It was unexpected. And therefore Evil.

Stretching, she did her morning exercises (Five **Smirks** in front of the mirror) before turning to her closet.

The first thing she noticed was that it was open. That was...convenient.

The second thing…well we all know the second thing.

Morgana clenched her fists. She was _furious._ Screw _Morgause,_ she was going to _avenge herself! _

If she had only remembered that she'd done that every single time Gwen took them out to be cleaned, Gwaine might have been spared.

There was no such luck.

The Wishful Queen of Camelot gnashed her teeth. She would count to seven before unleashing her fury on the universe. By then she would be good and mad.

_One. Two._

MERLIN.

_Three._

This was his doing!

_Four._

She knew it.

_Five._

She was going to BURN his neckerchief!

_Six._

What was that thing? Morgana picked it up and ripped it to shreds. Then, as an afterthought, put the pieces back together and read (in very nervous, wobbly, flopping-off-the-page handwriting that could only be Merlin's, and therefore could not withstand the Glare of Doom):

**_Dear To For_** _ Dear Morgana _**_and sisterfriend_**

_Please do not kill me. or my neckerchief. I really like it._

_It is not my fault your cloaks are missing. :( __ It is _**_Gawain gawaine gwain_**_ Gwaine._

_Please do not kill me._

_I tried to stop him, but couldn't :( __ he really wanted those cloaks…yeah….and __since he's banished you'll probably never see him again :)_

_Please do not kill me. Or Gwaine. He is _**_cool_**_ EVIL for stealing the cloaks. But __**has nice hai**r__ you can forgive him right?_

_Please do not kill me. I would really appreciate it. :)_

_ Merlin E_

_ A_

_*Boldface are strikethroughs._

Morgana scowled in a rather unladylike manner and threw the abused parchment out the window with rage.

She had a revenge to plot.

_Later that morning…_

Humming a merry tune, Guinevere stepped cheerfully in to Morgana's room.

Oh. Oh dear.

Gwen dropped the platter that contained the Lady Morgana's carefully arranged breakfast on the bedside table, the laundry basket on the floor and the purple cloak in the closet, wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, and surveyed the mess.

Even Gwen had to admit, it was impressive.

As she hurried out to get the broom, she noticed a suspicious-looking piece of parchment drifting off under the desk and snatched it up. Odd. It was a long strip of parchment ripped on either side. Squinting, she could barely make out the words. Whoever had written it should never be trusted with a pen again.

_mrys_

_ctual Sorcerer of Camelot_

Gwen frowned, shrugged, and stuck it in her pocket. With the nightmares Morgana was having lately, it wouldn't be good to give her ideas.


End file.
